


bones sticking out

by fairbanks



Series: goretober 2018 [18]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Blood Drinking (mild), Broken Bones, F/M, Finger Sucking, Goretober 2018, M/M, that's a tag huh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2019-08-07 19:10:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16414226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairbanks/pseuds/fairbanks
Summary: Jon's the only human in a social/work circle full of vampires and werewolves. All he wants is to have a broken bone in peace.





	bones sticking out

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Howl](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16405424) by [Zai42](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zai42/pseuds/Zai42). 



> this is based on Zai42's amazing fic [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16405424) and general comments she's made in discord about the au. i love this au, i love her fic, i love werewolf georgie ok. read it, it is good. thank you emma for indulging me writing this universe is way too fun.

  1. **bones sticking out**



  


In the grand scheme of things Jon knows he should be grateful this most recent injury was from a stupid mistake rather than _monster drama._ Just an accident in the workplace, completely random and lacking any sinister undertones.

 

Yes, he thinks with a pained hiss through his teeth, that’s about as far as he’s going to let that optimism run.

 

It was all very simple: Jon needed a file high up in the stacks, he climbed the rolling ladder to get said file and, in a truly wondrous showing of how much the world hated him, he slipped on the top step. Down he went, and while he’s grateful he didn’t land on his head his arm-

 

“Fuck,” Jon indulges. He tried not to curse but this was really a _fuck_ sort of day.

 

The pain is unimaginable, except he’s now intimiately acquainted with the feeling so he didn’t really need to imagine it. He knows there was a crack and, far worse, he can feel a sticky pooling of blood at his arm. Jon keeps his eyes closed, lets his whited out vision return before he forces himself to glance over. The regret is immediate, seeing as there’s something sticking out of his _skin_ that is most certainly a bone and it shouldn’t be doing that.

 

There’s enough of a daze that he can focus on something beside the pain for a while, namely glowering at the ceiling in impotent but well deserved rage at his bone’s gall, sticking out of his body like that. Or was it a boundary of his body so technically he just changed his outline? Whatever the case he’s not pleased, he’s not scared and he’s more certainly not going to cry. It just… hurt, that’s all.

 

“Jon?”

 

Jon blinks blearily, wants to move but finds the very idea of jostling himself right now morbidly hilarious. That’s Martin though, he didn’t hear him come in but he never does. Vampires, honestly. It wouldn’t kill them to make the effort at a footstep here or there, they were already dead.

 

“I thought I hear- ohhh my god!” Martin skids to a halt, doesn’t cast a proper shadow so Jon’s not entirely sure where he is until he’s hovering over him. When Martin gets upset his fangs seem to pop a bit, something that should be intimidating but typically reminded Jon of a something young still growing into itself.

 

Probably unfair, since Martin was only younger than Elias, as far as Jon knew, but the image remained.

 

“I- ok, I’ll call the paramedics and- are you okay?”

 

“My _bone_ is jutting out of my skin, Martin, what do you think?” Jon snaps, maybe he’ll feel bad about it when his body wasn’t screaming agony. Martin, at least, seems happy to hear Jon bitch.

 

“Well, yes I mean- just hold tight, okay? I’ll get my phone-”

 

“You left it at your desk?”

 

Martin flushes, or has an expression that says he would flush if he had the bloodflow to do so. “These pants don’t have pockets, okay!”

 

“Hey Jon, what have I said about bleeding around here? Literally all your coworkers are vampires, you think- oh. Wow.” That would be Melanie, coming in and likely following the scent of his blood. “How did you even manage this? The ladder isn’t that high.”

 

“ _Melanie,_ ” Martin tries to scold before moving with inhuman speed. When he’s back he’s fiddling with his phone, stops when the screen lights up. “Oh, uh, Elias says he’s already called an ambulance.”

 

“Wonderful,” Jon grits out, and the mention of Elias is enough to have Melanie snort and leave the room without further mockery.

 

Martin, on the other hand, hovers up until Elias himself shows up at the doorway. Out of all the vampires he knows (and lord Jon knows far too many) Elias does the best show of looking and seeming human at a glance. He gives himself footsteps, he makes the effort to keep his skin colored a less corpse-like color through what Jon assumes is makeup. It probably goes to show just how monstrous he was, and how old, that he hid himself so expertly.

 

“Oh Jon,” Elias sighs and this is the last thing Jon needs right now. “Martin, you may go.”

 

“But-”

 

“You’re still on the clock, aren’t you? I’ll make sure Jon is handed over to the paramedics,” Elias continues as if Martin didn’t speak, and Jon doesn’t need to look to know Martin will hover for several moments more before leaving in thinly veiled irritation and even more obvious concern.

 

“Now, the paramedics should be here quickly, though I imagine moving will be… unpleasant.”

 

“Yes, Elias, as it turns out broken bones for mortals isn’t exactly a picnic,” Jon tells him, teeth still grit. He’s barely moved from where he fell beside turning to lie on his back, trying to manage the waves of pain with as little movement as possible.

 

Elias kneels beside him, and from this angle he can catch something sharp in Elias’ eyes his muddled brain can’t quite connect. “Let me help you Jon, with the pain. A small amount of my blood will quiet it and promote faster healing- and no, it won’t turn you. I’ve told you before, your humanity is very important to me.”

 

“So you keep saying,” Jon closes his eyes tight, knows very well he should refuse and gears up to do so. Easier said than done when he’s still struggling not to cry like a child, and he almost regrets a monster didn’t do this to him. If it did at least the fear and adrenaline would be welcome buffers.

 

So, unsurprisingly, Jon makes a terrible choice. “Fine. Fine, just… just do it.”

 

Elias smiles down at him, deceptively gentle as holds Jon’s chin and bites his own pale forefinger. It doesn’t bleed much, the wound already closing rapidly when he offers it to Jon, and Jon curses the cocky bastard as he parts his lips lets Elias’ finger in.

 

The blood doesn’t taste like it should, the sharp iron there but something headier, something intensely cold in the drops like water dripping off ice. It’s addictive and for a moment he’s lost to just the small taste, sucking Elias’ finger until he realizes what he’s doing and jerks away.

 

The pain is already better, bearable even if his arm is still a mess. Elias, as always, looks insufferably smug. “No need to thank me.”

 

“I’ll thank you when I’m sure you didn’t just trick me into something sinister,” Jon answers and Elias’ lips quirk in a way that does not make Jon feel better.

 

The paramedics are there quickly though, and that leads to a whole other set of problems when he hears one of the women say she swore she saw a large dog following them. Jon sighs, closes his eyes and tries to enjoy the drug haze before Georgie accidently spooked some paramedics.

 

-

 

Unsurprisingly Georgie is clingy.

 

“I have work to do,” Jon tells her, arm in a thick cast and mood no better despite painkillers. “My arm is healing fine.”

 

“You are so full of drugs I don’t know how you’re standing. I can _smell_ them on you,” Georgie responds, taking none of his shit. “Amongst other things. Did you really have to take blood from your boss? You smell like him, Jon. It’s weird.”

 

“Forgive me if I wasn’t exactly thinking straight.” Jon tries to keep the file away but the Admiral, the traitor, does a rather impressive leap and snatches it from his hand, landing gracefully on the nearby table. Jon glares at the traitor, a cat far too smart because heaven forbid Jon know someone or something that wasn’t supernatural.

 

“Good kitty,” Georgie coos, scratches behind the Admiral’s ears.

 

“Interloper,” Jon huffs, and wonders if he could bribe the cat with treats or something when Georgie’s back was turned.

 

Of course Georgie’s having none of it, rolls her eyes. “You brought this on yourself,” she informs him, and when he glances back she’s turned, fluid after years and years of work.

 

“Georgie-” Jon warns but Georgie the wolf creature is having none of it, headbutts his thigh and corrals him until he throws his good hand up and marches back to the bedroom. Georgie’s clearly pleased, aroos soft and jumps onto the bed, tail thumping against the covers expectantly until Jon sighs and gets on as well.

 

That’s Georgie’s cue to curl around him, a position familiar after so long as part of her ‘pack.’ When he had trouble sleeping or refused to do so Georgie would quite literally drag him to bed, human or wolf form, and curl around him like a physical block. Needless to say it was strange to sleep against the rough fur of a wolf but Jon found it to be rather… comforting. These days at least. A warm bulk, a steady, fast heartbeat, the feeling of protection he would never admit- the feeling of belonging he could never put to words.

 

The Admiral plops into the pile and Jon sighs. A wolf monster, a cat (probably,) and a man in an awkward cast. Georgie snuffles at his temple before snorting and nudging his hair.

 

“Yes, yes, I’m going to sleep,” promises Jon, and Georgie gives him a look that doesn’t seem all that impressed. “I demand the right to finish my work when I wake though.”

 

Georgie snorts again and licks his temple. Maybe she’s right about the rest business because he falls asleep far too quickly after that.

 

-

 

“Ugh, you smell like Elias,” Basira tells him when she comes over with some research he requested. Basira’s always been a mild, controlled enough presence that Georgie didn’t mind the werewolf on her ‘territory,’ aka he apartment. Daisy, on the other hand, raised Georgie’s hackles when she got too close to Georgie’s home, even if she got along well with Daisy beside.

 

(“It’s a werewolf thing,” Georgie shrugs when he asks. “As much as I hate to use these terms Tonner’s a bit… alpha. Brings out the territorial bits when she gets too close to my turf.”

 

“Your ‘turf,’” Jon snorts. “You sound like an ill mannered gang.”

 

“You sound like a pompous nerd who wanks to Dickens.”

 

“ _You_ smell like a wet dog.”

 

That’s about when Georgie tackles him for some play wrestling at the offense, and that was that.)

 

“It- look, it’s a long story. How is everyone?” Jon asks, invites her inside. The Admiral strolls over, eyes Basira critically as Basira stares back. The standstill stops when the Admiral licks a paw and Basira nods her respect. Jon pretends he didn’t have to witness that.

 

“Fine, Tim’s moping, Melanie’s angry, Martin’s beside himself with worry. He keeps chewing on his lip and biting through it.”

 

“I told him it’s nothing,” Jon grumbles, makes her tea gestures to the bag of beef jerky Georgie liked to gnaw on. Basira gladly takes a piece and Jon resists the urge to make a comment about dog treats. “It’s healing extraordinarily fast, thanks to Elias I suppose. There isn’t a downside to taking a small dose of vampire’s blood, is there?”

 

Basira looks amused, a menacing sign in Jon’s book. “Depends. Guess you’ll see- but no, nothing too outlandish. It’ll get out of your system soon enough and thank god. Georgie’s real irritated by the smell.”

 

“Yes, she’s not a fan of Elias. She calls him the local cult leader when she’s feeling generous,” sighs Jon, though maybe a touch of fondness hits his tone.

 

“It’s more a territory thing, it’s like he put a big sign over one of her pack that says ‘property of Elias Bouchard.’”

 

“Well that’s dreadful and unsurprising, if it was his intention.”

 

Basira shrugs. “Like I said, it’ll fade. You’re lucky Georgie’s as calm as she is, pretty sure a wolf like Daisy would have tried tearing Elias’ throat out for something like that.”

 

Jon rubs his temples, tries to remember a time when the people that surrounded him were all human and would have taken such a comment as a joke. Admittedly he never had that many people around him, and if he were being trite and sentimental, which he refused to be publicly, he’d admit having Georgie in his life made it all worth it.

 

Maybe that’s why he puts in the effort to make this whole ridiculous scent problem easier for her.

 

Georgie doesn’t own much he can wear himself- she much more solidly built and taller to boot. She does have a hoodie, an old, baggy thing he remembers as far back as their college days, so he pulls it on and pretends the scent of her (dog hair and winter chill) doesn’t warm him in its own way.

 

When Georgie gets home the sight stops her in her tracks. “You’re wearing my clothes.”

 

“I’m wearing your hoodie,” Jon corrects.

 

“Why are you doing that exactly?” asks Georgie carefully, and Jon thinks he should be offended, probably.

 

“I simply thought it may help with this… scent situation,” Jon admits, prim and straight spined. “In that wearing your clothes and your… lord, your _scent_ may cover his.”

 

Georgie stares at him, shocked at the gesture in a way that Jon is positive he should be offended by. It’s hard to be when Georgie beams, drops her bag and crawls over the couch to his side, pressing her nose to his neck and breathing in deep. Jon swallows but Georgie seems content enough, rubbing her still soft, human jaw against his.

 

“Thanks Jon,” she tells him with a smile.

 

“You’re welcome,” Jon manages.

 

-

 

Jon’s typical dreams were their own subject to grapple, an endless unpleasantness he didn’t want to dwell on any more than he already did. It was rare he didn’t dream and it was rarer still he dreamt of something other than eyes.

 

Rarer _still_ that dream was explicitly sexual in nature, so intense he wakes up hard, gasping and aching in the bed he shares with Georgie.

 

Jon clutches the sheets, shoulders heaving with his breath as Georgie stirs. Any concern she might have clearly vanishes once she breaths in the air, Jon’s arousal evident. “Uh, Jon? Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you hot and bothered before.”

 

“Just… just a dream,” he assures, and Georgie snorts.

 

“Let me guess, about Elias?”

 

All of Jon’s muscles seem to tense at the guess, and how did she guess? Did he say Elias’ name as he slept?

 

(Elias is sharp in all aspects- his eyes, his angles, his teeth. He scrapes those teeth over Jon’s skin, over sensitive parts, smiles when Jon trembles in fear and something he wish was fear.

 

“No need to be afraid, Jon,” Elias tells him, deceptively soft, mockingly soft. “Unless you like to be.”)

 

“How-”

 

“You drank some of his blood- Jon, you didn’t know? God, isn’t your job to know this stuff?” Georgie asks, raises a hand when Jon glowers. “It’s fine, typical even. Humans who take vampire blood without being bitten first often have wet dreams about the vampire in question. I’m sure there’s a science behind it but it is way too four am for that.”

 

“Why did- why did _no one_ tell me this? And why did Elias- ugh, that _prick_ , he thinks this is funny, doesn’t he?”

 

Jon’s fuming only makes Georgie sigh, straddle him and press him down onto the bed in the way she knew always shut him up. “Jon, I love you dearly but you are so thick sometimes.”

 

“What does that mean?”

 

“Do you want me to get you off?” Georgie ignores the question and asks that instead, takes Jon’s uncertain expression in and offers, “I can tie you up first. Bit hard with the cast but we can figure that out.”

 

They weren’t typically too sexual, usually Jon offering Georgie a hand or Georgie tying him up and slapping him around a little when he needed to get out of his own head. The dream is still coursing through his veins and he nods, lips quirking when Georgie kisses the tip of his nose and goes to get the rope.

 

-

 

When Jon sees Tim the next day Tim takes one look at him and scrunches his nose in disgust.

 

"You smell like the weirdest combination of corpse and dog," Tim informs him. Jon isn't sure whether this is better or worse than their usual interactions, which are nothing or fights.

 

Jon sighs, tries to ignore the get well soon card Martin had everyone sign and the flowers Elias sent. They look like they belong at a funeral and probably mean something in flower language like 'I'm going to drink all your blood and laugh about it.' Georgie signed his cast with an elaborate picture of a cat clawing the head off a stick figure vampire. Jon tries to ignore that as well.


End file.
